In a Night
by respite2
Summary: Kirishima's recovering from burns while Bakugou can't stop ruining his clothes. They have an argument in the middle of the night. Oneshot. Written for KiriBaku Challenges. Prompt 4: Quirk Swap


The salve didn't have a strong scent though he smelled mint when he brought his hands near his face. It wasn't a medicinal smell, just something plant-like and fresh. It made him think of a hand cream a girl like Tsuyu might carry. Something light but potent. He hoped this would help make recovery a little more comfortable. At least the bandages were off for a second, his skin felt better now that it could breathe without the painful burning sensation.

The fight yesterday would have been routine if not for this. Somehow he and Bakugou had switched quirks during battle. He'd been too busy thinking about the villain in front of him to pause and wonder why his hardening had stopped. Focused on rushing in ahead, he had reactivated his quirk without thinking. In that split second he had felt that something wasn't right, but it was too late. His palms, at his sides, facing downwards, blasted straight into the ground. It propelled him backwards, in the most jagged and awkward trajectory. The damage would have been worse had Fat Gum not caught him.

As for Bakugou, he heard him yelling and cursing up a storm ahead of him, somewhere beyond the rubble and dust. Eijirou knew Bakugou was fine, which was a relief, but an anxious feeling was gnawing at his stomach. If only Bakugou would have replied to his messages. He couldn't feel at ease until Bakugou himself would tell him he was okay, but the chances of that were almost zero.

On top of that, hero work with Fat Gum was on hold until they could find the villain, or the quirk wore off. Whichever came first. The risk of an accident by sending him out amongst the public was too high. He understood that, and still the pressure mounted. Knowing Fat Gum and Amajiki were out there without him made him feel guilty.

For now the situation was being handled by their agencies. The search was on, with neither he or Bakugou allowed to join in the chase. His agency had reached out to Bakugou's, asking when they could experiment with training, or attempt at triggering a swap. But they rejected the meeting. No explanation given. Eijirou not the agency had any idea on how to proceed from there. He wasn't even able to get a reply after a hospital visit.

True, they hadn't talked in a month prior to the incident, and that sort of silence was difficult to break. But still, he had hoped Bakugou would put that aside for now. Hadn't they been friends long enough? They'd been spending so much time together even after graduation.

He went and place the little green jar away in his medicine cabinet. Even after two months he was still getting used to maintaining a tidy living space. Decluttering a single dorm room was different from keeping an entire apartment clean. This was true even if his apartment wasn't exactly all that spacious. Habitually placing things in their rightful location was the only way to avoid turning the place into a hazardous dump. At least that's what Bakugou had kept yelling at him as he grabbed Kirishima's sleep t-shirts off the floor. Bakugou had yelled a lot then, but he would still just do these things for him. Collect scattered articles of clothing into the laundry bin. Remind him that things like curtains couldn't be replaced by cartoon print bed sheets indefinitely. Best of all, Bakugou would occasionally replenish the fridge, usually with ingredients Bakugou liked to use. Nothing was better than coming home to a delicious aroma and the sight of Bakugou stirring several small pots in his kitchen.

The salve dried faster than he expected, so he went and brought the first aid kit out. He carried it over to the kitchen island, preferring for a wider surface to work on. Even with the salve the creases stung quite a bit. He took his time unwinding the gauze. With careful concentration he wrapped his injuries. The blasts had burned his palms and the skin between the fingers. This sort of injury was inconvenient for someone living alone, keeping him from doing much aside from tending the wounds. The agency had suggested he room with a friend or family member for a day or two, but he didn't see the sense in disrupting someone else's life. He'd also been told to keep the circumstances a secret, and he wasn't keen on making up an unnecessary story.

If Bakugou had been around, Eijirou thought, he might have replaced the bandages for him. Carefully and perfectly, probably just as well as the nurse had done in the hospital. He would have called Eijirou and idiot and scolded him in that rough but friendly way he'd done when it was just them. He would have sat with him in his too small couch, holding his hand, leaning in close…

He slammed the first aid kit shut. The noise cut his thoughts back down to size. There wasn't a point in kicking up these feelings right now.

He took a minute to shake it off before he finished wrapping his hands. Done, he found a clean storage container, and placed all the bandages, disinfectant wipes, and everything else inside. Then picked up the shattered plastic bits on the linoleum floor, tossing them in with the recyclable trash. He felt pretty dumb while doing it.

With no other plans he found himself walking sluggishly into his bedroom. He placed the single container on the dresser before sitting himself down at the edge of the bed.

It was dark out, though still too early for bed. He'd already spent most of the day failing to distract himself with movies and simple chores. All he could do was think.

Hanging around his apartment had gotten old fast. The villain who'd caused this was out and about somewhere in the city. Sure, people were searching everywhere for him, but Eijirou wasn't one of them. The whole thing was making him feel useless.

If only Bakugou would agree to the meeting. Even if they couldn't undo the quirk's effects alone they could come up with a plan. He thought Bakugou would have been the first to suggest they go after the guy themselves. Maybe that would have been the case a month ago.

But still, he couldn't understand why Bakugou hadn't agreed. It seemed very unlike him to keep away when his work was on the line.

He was proven right a few hours later. Vibrations from several texts woke him a little after one in the morning. He had left it on his chest as he'd fallen asleep watching some baking show while sitting sloppily on the couch. These texts were the first messages he'd received from Bakugou in weeks.

_I'm coming over _

_You better be awake _

_I WILL ram your door down _

He wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth before quickly messaging him back.

_I'm awake _

That would have to do, he couldn't think of what else to say. He put the phone down and redid his ponytail. Changing clothes was a little much. Washing his face seems like a good idea, though. He took a look around the apartment on his way and back from the bathroom, making sure nothing was too out of place. The apartment wasn't spotless, but he'd maintained it well, at least he thought so. The dirty dishes in the sink could be excused with his injuries. And anyway, there wouldn't have been time to do them, Bakugou was definitely already close to his place by the time he seby those messages. He'd done that from the start, giving him almost no warning before showing up at his door. Not that he'd ever minded before. Even with the nervousness creeping up on him, he looked forward to seeing Bakugou again.

A loud and rapid knocking announced his arrival. Eijirou opened the door, revealing a very disgruntled Bakugou. He was wearing a hoodie and grey joggers. They looked new.

"Dude, people are sleeping."

Ignoring him, Bakugou pushed him aside and walked into the apartment. He stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for Eijirou to close the door.

Suddenly he couldn't remember how this used to go.

"...you want something to drink?"

Bakugou grimaced, not answering. He looked away angrily, in that way that meant he was trying to force himself to say something he much rather not. So he stood there, waiting for Bakugou to do whatever Bakugou needed to do before they could talk.

Bakugou fixed his eyes right on Eijirou, for the sake of his own pride rather than to intimidate.

"My agency won't let me fucking do anything until I fix this."

Eijirou nodded. "Yeah, I'm basically on house arrest. " Then, unable to think of anything better to say, asked, "Did you ruin any good clothes?"

Bakugou gave him a look without answering. Eijirou just stood there awkwardly, eyes roaming around as he tried to find the correct words. With Bakugou he was often trying to find the right course to make things easier. Doing his best to mitigate Bakugou's less than forgiving disposition. This had gotten easier over time, as Bakugou changed with the years. Though, there were times when Eijirou wished Bakugou did a little more for his own feelings. And he hated that he felt this way now, because it had been Eijirou that caused this rift between them. And yet, he couldn't help but feel some slight resentment.

"So, what do you want?"

His tone wasn't demanding, or dismissive, or even annoyed, but Bakugou didn't like it. His straightforwardness was met with a sour expression. However, it did produce and answer. "I want to try to find a way to fix this, I already fuckin' told you."

Eijirou slowly nodded.

"How though?"

Again, Bakugou said nothing, choosing to act rather than explain. He took a purposeful step towards Eijirou. He placed his hand on his bare shoulder. He kept it there a second before removing it. They both watched Bakugou raise his hand, expectantly.

He felt an odd mix of disappointment and relief when Bakugou's skin hardened into a jagged claw.

"Damn it!," yelled Bakugou, his voice much too loud. Eijirou wasn't surprised to see a ripple of movement under the hoodie sleeves. A few rips and tears appeared up to his shoulders.

Bakugou forced himself to breathe, to calm down. He must have ruined at least a few shirts, thought Eijirou, even if wouldn't admit it.

"The user probably works as the medium himself. We hadn't even spoken during the fight."

"_ I know that, _" bit out Bakugou. He had been desperate for a quick fix. Eijirou wondered if that had been his only reason for showing up in the middle of the night.

"I could...give you some pointers if you want," he offered.

Bakugou scoffed. "Like I didn't learn anything from watching for three years. I need practice. This thing flares up at anything."

As far as Eijirou knew, that wasn't the case. Then again, he didn't have Bakugou's temperament.

Eijirou then caught Bakugou taking an almost discreet glance at his hands. Bakugou knew he'd been seen.

"You're lucky you only singed the skin," he said, as if lecturing him.

Eijirou shrugged. "Wasn't exactly expecting my hands to suddenly explode. Did this ever happen to you?"

Bakugou snorted. "Of course not."

"Not even at the beginning?"

"_ No _."

"Well, I guess you're called a genius for a reason."

Bakugou tilted his head, as if confused. Not sure if Eijirou meant it sarcastically, or taken by surprise because he knew it was. Finally, he dismissed the comment with, "Don't be stupid."

Eijirou scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. He honestly didn't know what he was trying to accomplish here either.

"You could teach me." It was a peace offering.

"Dumbass, you can't do anything until your hands heal."

"That'll be by tomorrow night. The hospital staff gave me some good stuff for burns."

Eijirou knew without a doubt that Bakugou was allowing himself to be swayed. But he wouldn't give in without some more gently pushing. He couldn't. For whatever reason Bakugou had decided on his own.

"We don't know when we'll get back to normal. You want to get back out there, right? We can catch the guy ourselves."

He was sure he saw Bakugou's hoodie ripple again at the shoulders. Nothing poked through this time.

"Like there's a choice."

That was a yes. Bakugou went and sat himself at the kitchen table. Eijirou tried not to look too happy about it, and sat across from him.

Bakugou didn't wait for Eijirou's questions. "You ignited too soon, too wide.. You need to get a feel for what's right for your weight and position. Or else you end hurdling ass first into your own team."

"Flying off like that was pretty scary," Eijirou admitted with an embarrassed half-smile.

"It could've gone worse."

"Yeah, guess I can't complain too much."

"I didn't mean it like that," Bakugou said a little louder, "You were lucky."

At that Eijirou could only think, Oh. He felt pretty dumb. All Bakugou meant was that he was more pleased than not that Eijirou hadn't blown up into chunks. Still, he had started to think Bakugou's silence had been a sign of his growing indifference. The whole thing was making him feel too pathetic. He needed a second. Everything felt mixed up in his head and in his gut.

"I'll make tea," he said while trying to get up, but Bakugou grabbed his wrist.

"Sit down," he demanded, "Forget the damn tea."

He sat back down, watching Bakugou struggle to find the words.

"This is stupid," he started, "I just want to get back out there. But you're acting weird about it."

"I have absolutely no clue how I'm supposed to act," he answered honestly.

"Fuck, I don't know. Do something. Fight me."

If he wasn't having such a hard time, he might have laughed. Maybe they would've fought it out under normal circumstances. It sounded like something they would have done.

But that wouldn't solve anything now.

"I _am _mad at you, but I don't blame you for avoiding me. Not really."

Eijirou felt like he was treading on the outer edges of a minefield. Before he could run in and take the real issue at hand, he needed to know more about what Bakugou was thinking.

"Did you want to talk to me?" It was the best he could come up with when he couldn't ask what he meant. Do you regret it, running away?

Bakugou was sitting leaned back into the chair, one hand on the table top, silently tapping the surface.

"Yeah," came his reluctant answer, with no further comment.

This was it. They would settle this now, or nothing could be done for them. Even though he kept imagining Bakugou storming out of his apartment again. He needed to clear the air while he still had Bakugou here with him.

"Can we really not be friends? If you want some space, I can understand that. But does it have to be forever?"

"Why do you talk like that?"

Eijirou shook his head, "Like what?"

"Like some kid!," yelled Bakugou, "Talking about 'forever'. If you weren't such a kid, maybe you wouldn't have opened your big mouth. We could've been fine the way we were."

"I don't understand why we can't be friends still. I won't force you to deal with my feelings."

Bakugou slammed his first in the table, cracking the wood with his hard edges. He'd lost control again. "Bullshit! Like I hadn't seen it written all over your face. You'd already made it my problem."

The faint sound of his neighbors hitting their ceiling with a stick disrupted him. Bakugou thumped at the kitchen floor with his foot.

So his feelings had been a burden all along, this was news to him. Bakugou had said nothing.

"Katsuki."

Bakugou bristled at the name, but Eijirou somehow knew this wasn't anger directed at him. Not exactly.

"If you knew and it was such a problem, why didn't you tell me sooner?" It wasn't that he was embarrassed , though he was. This was something he needed to know.

"It _wasn't _a problem," said Bakugou, "I didn't want to stop being friends. But now we do."

This was more painful than when Bakugou had shoved him away and fled from the apartment that night. For it to be so plainly laid out before him cut deep.

"Do you hate it that much?"

Bakugou brushed his hair away from his eyes, exasperated. "Don't be stupid. I, I just can't be around you."

Eijirou felt like he couldn't breathe.

Bakugou wasn't finished. "You can put up with me when we're hanging out at your place, watching some shitty movie. Eating dinner and talking about work. Dating me...it wouldn't be that easy."

Eijirou watched as Bakugou half covered his face with his hand, his scowl giving way to a more pained expression.

"You think you're so goddamn sure you know what you want, but you don't know anything about it."

A muffled crackling sound could be heard, prompting Eijirou to look at his hands. The bandages were smoking. Bakugou jumped out of his chair, grabbing Eijirou by his upper arm.

"_ You need to calm down _."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Eijirou couldn't feel any pain from his palms. And he wasn't sure why the quirk was acting up. Though he didn't have the word for it yet, whatever he was feeling, it wasn't anger. He got up, forcing Bakugou to move a half-step back.

"This whole time I thought you hated me, or wanted to forget me, but that's not it."

Bakugou ignored him. "I need to check your burns."

"What did you mean, that it wouldn't be easy?"

Bakugou unwrapped the gauze on his left hand, managing to keep from touching the palms despite Eijirou not cooperating.

"Where's your first aid kit?"

"Katsuki, why did you leave like that?"

Bakugou was fuming. While he was careful with his hands, his grip on Eijirou's wrist was almost painful.

"Because, I didn't want to risk letting myself say yes. Now tell me where the fucking bandages are."

"In my room. In the box on the dresser."

A minute later, and they were on the couch, Bakugou removing the ruined gauze, cleaning the burns. Eijirou had grabbed the salve from the medicine cabinet, ready to reapply it. Though, he hadn't burned himself this time, only burned the cotton.

"Lucked out again," said Bakugou under his breath.

Eijirou watched patiently, not minding the sting from the disinfectant. Bakugou's hands were sure and steady. Everything was so quiet. Probably a relief to his downstairs neighbors.

"Maybe dating wouldn't be easy."

"It wouldn't. I couldn't even say no like a normal person."

"But I still want to try."

Eijirou pulled his hand away, letting Bakugou work on the other. He continued, "I can't let you go, not when I know you want to try too. Even if you want to fight me and yourself over it."

Bakugou took the salve, opening it to apply it on the burns. He did his best not to apply too much pressure on the wounds. The fresh smell was almost soothing. Eijirou breathed in deep.

About ten minutes later they were putting everything away, and Bakugou muttered, "Okay. Let's go for it."

Eijirou wanted to pull him into a hug, but Bakugou stopped him.

"Not right now."

Eijirou eyed the ripped up hoodie.

"We'll work on it."


End file.
